Raydorlationship
by Mistmantle
Summary: Sharon and Jackson, about twenty years back. Sharon's working for the LAPD and Jackson's still a hotshot lawyer at his firm. Probably a happier marriage than others may suggest, but still fits with canon, as far as I can tell. I don't know how far it'll go, just kinda whatever seems right. There are some Proflynnza cameo appearances and maybe some of the others.
1. Step One

_**A/N- This all stays within canon, the little we know of it, haha.**_

_"Step one: You say 'We need to talk." He walks; you say 'Sit down, it's just a talk."_

-The Fray, How To Save A Life

* * *

Jackson Raydor quietly unlocked his front door, hoping to hell his wife was already asleep. He closed the door and removed his shoes, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was in luck.

When he straightened, however, he found golden light spilling into the hall from the living room. He stepped in to find Sharon sitting on the sofa, finishing some paperwork.

"Jack." Her tone was cool and carefully modulated.

"Shar. I-"

She cut him off by raising one hand. "I don't want to hear it. Not tonight." She continued to review her papers.

Jack flopped down next to her, glad he kept a box of breathmints in his car. He wrapped his arm around her and tried again. "Sweetheart, it was just a late night at the office. We have some big cases coming up. I tried to call-"

"No, you didn't. At least not from the office." She finally looked up at him. "I got a call at six tonight from Ricky's daycare. They said you hadn't picked him up and they couldn't reach you. I had to go and get him." She dropped her files on the coffee table. "Jack, I only work two night shifts every month, and they're always the second and fourth Tuesdays. I only need you to get Ricky two nights a month, and you can't manage it."

Jack pulled back, stung. "Shar, love, I'm so sorry. You know how it is, though. Getting all excited for your case. Sometimes you forget things.

"And in this case, you forgot your son. Lucy managed to cover my shift for me, but I don't want it happening again." Her eyes flashed as she stood. "You don't have to lie about where you were. I'm not blind; I can figure things out." She held up her hand again as he began to speak, and he paused. "I'm going to bed. You can sleep out here."

She turned and left him alone. A moment later, he heard their bedroom door click shut.

He leaned back against the sofa. How had he forgotten to pick his son up from daycare? He thought back. Everyone at the firm had decided to go for drinks at five to celebrate another victory in court. Jack had gone with and one beer had turned into a few more, and he... forgot.

He sighed deeply. _What the hell kind of father am I?_

* * *

Jack woke early the next morning and took a quick shower. By the end, he was awake and much less bleary. He dressed again and walked back to the kitchen. Generally, fixing breakfast helped cool Sharon's righteous anger. He pulled the waffle-iron out and set about making breakfast. He had just finished mixing the waffle batter when the front door clicked open and shut again.

_Damn_, he thought. Sharon had risen earlier than he thought she would after her late night. He stayed silent, and a few minutes later, the upstairs shower began running.

He knew she'd come back downstairs in another twenty minutes or so, after her quick post-morning-run rinse and waking Ricky. He waited for a while until he could hear his son getting up, and then began to spoon batter into the iron.

Sharon joined him moments later, dressed in navy slacks and a camisole, her LAPD regulation shirt slung over one shoulder. She pointedly ignored him and began heating water for her tea.

He came up behind her at the stove and hugged her. "How much longer are you planning on going on your morning runs?"

She didn't look up. "I'm going slowly. It's fine."

He ran his hands down to rest on her hips. "How much longer are you planning on working?"

"The next five months or so. Through September, at least." She turned to face him. "I've had a baby before, Jack. I know what I'm doing."

He knew when to quit. "Alright." He pulled away as Ricky entered, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He was tall for a four-year-old, but then he had inherited much of his mother's phenotype. Tall with quick green eyes and Jack's sandy brown hair.

"Hey, buddy! Do you want waffles?" Jack asked.

"YES." Ricky beamed at his parents and clambered onto a tall chair at the kitchen's granite island.

"Careful," Sharon warned.

Jack set a plate of waffles down before Ricky and then two more for himself and Sharon. He sat and she sat next to him, sipping her tea.

"Eat up."

"Not now," she said. "I'll eat later."

"Shar."

"It'll come back up if I eat it now. Later," she restated forcefully. However, as Jack sighed she took a few bites. "There."

"Alright."

They finished breakfast quietly, Ricky too interested in his food to converse much. Sharon was the first to get up, retrieving her navy shirt from the counter. She pulled it on, tucked it in, and then Jack was there, doing up the buttons.

"You'll have to size up soon," he joked.

"Jackson."

He could hear the smile in her voice and knew she was almost laughing. "Have a good day, Shar."

She looked up at him. "You'll get Ricky to daycare?"

"Yes."

"And I'll pick him up."

"Okay."

"And I'll be home by five-thirty."

"Sounds good."

She kissed him chastely on the cheek, kissed Ricky's forehead, then grabbed her purse and cap and headed out the door.

"Love you, Shar!" he called.

* * *

_**A/N- I know a lot of people see Sharon and Jack as having had this crazy-ass relationship. I mean, I can see why (not like it's obvious or anything, haha), but I've always kinda seen them as being two people who drifted apart. I think they definitely loved each other, and that when they separated it was at least somewhat mutual- ie, Jackson didn't feel he should stay and nor did Sharon. I think they probably stayed friends to some degree, though.**_

_**Also- not that crazy-ass Raydorlationship is bad, I love some of those stories (: Let me know what you think, okay?**_


	2. The Man Next Door

**_A/N- There are a couple ten-codes in here, I think the meaning is implied, but if not, just google it (: I also changed the last chapter so that "Mattes" became "Ricky," as per the latest episode._**

"Stand tall for the people of America."

-Niko Vega, Beast

Sharon pulled her car into a space in the LAPD garage, locked, and joined the crowd headed for the elevators. She missed the first two lifts and stood with a small group waiting for the third elevator to make its way back to the garage.

She was lost in thought when a middle-aged man with ruffled dark hair tapped her shoulder. He was tall, dressed in a neat blue suit. He had a huge grin on his face, and she could tell that he was one of those guys the girls loved.

"Hey Officer," he smiled. "Do you have a minute?"

She smiled back. His mood was infectious. "Sure."

"So my friend here," he gestured to a shorter man by his side with graying hair and an atrocious paisley tie. "It's his anniversary tomorrow and he doesn't know what to get his wife."

"See here, Flynn," the short man interrupted. "I just can't decide between getting Lizzie earrings or a necklace."

"Are you asking me to help you pick which one?" Sharon laughed.

"Well..."

"Yeah, he is," the tall one said.

Sharon thought for a minute. She didn't know a thing about the man's wife, but she knew her own tastes quite well. "If it were me, I'd go with the necklace. It'd be versatile and harder to lose." She paused. "And a girl can never have too many necklaces."

The tall man grinned widely. "That is exactly what I said! There you have it."

The shorter man rolled his eyes. "Don't mind him; he's just hot air."

The elevator dinged and they made their way towards it.

"Thanks for the help, Officer...?" The tall one started.

"Raydor. Sharon Raydor."

"Andy Flynn. And this idiot is Louie Provenza."

"If you're ever in robbery-homicide, stop by," Provenza said as Sharon got off at her stop.

She waved, then joined the wave of uniformed beat officers headed for the locker rooms. Sharon tossed her keys in her locker on top of her spare uniform, then walked back outside to join her partner, Meriwether Arthur.

He was tall and gangly, with his rumpled and fading copper hair fluttering in the breeze.

"Hey, Sharon," he called, melding her name into one syllable: _Sharn. _"Ready for another day in our beautiful Los Angeles?"

She laughed and slid into the car with him. "Hope it's quiet today."

Meri fell back into his seat. "My God. Was Rulebook Raydor partying it up last night?"

"Nah, just up late."

His face turned serious as he reversed out of their spot. "Shary, is this Jack again? How late did he get back?"

Sometimes Sharon withed Meri didn't have such a quick mind. "Not real late."

"Shar, that was one of the worst lies I've ever heard in my life. I thought I taught you better."

She giggled. After four years of partnership, they had learned each other well. "No, really, it wasn't that late. He's been later."

"'Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,'" he quoted, but left the subject alone. "Kate wants to have a get together on Saturday for everyone," he said, bringing up his wife's enthusiasm for group dinners. "You know- Jimmy, Lucy, Carter... actually, I think Kate's planning on inviting the whole squad to our house for dinner. Could you and Jack come?"

Sharon knew Meri's wife fairly well, after some shared holidays and celebrations. "Yeah, that should be fine. May I bring Ricky?"

"Yeah, sure. Anna and Peter are home from college, so all the kids will be there. Lucy and Alex are both bringing theirs."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

"This is dispatch," the radio crackled suddenly. "10-50 at Tenth and Sheridan Avenue. Nearby units respond."

Sharon leaned forward and picked up the radio. "This is unit two-twelve. We're close. ETA..." She glanced at Meri. "Two minutes?"

"Roger that, two-twelve. It's all yours."

"Not so quiet after all," Meri grunted. He turned onto a side street and began making his way back to Tenth Street.

It turned out to be a simple case: one man had rear-ended another. They exchanged information, it was documented, and everyone went on their way.

The rest of the day continued much like the first call. Several small calls. Drunk and disorderly, speeding, running a red light. Up and down, in and out. Sharon was royally tired by the time four o' clock rolled around and she could see similar weariness in Meri's face.

He was driving back to Parker Plaza when another call came over the radio. "We have a 10-80 in progress two blocks south of Parker Plaza. Suspect may be armed. Request all available units for back-up."

"Damn," Meri sighed. "Are we available, or not?"

"Meri... Of course we're available. We're only a couple streets over."

"Rulebook Raydor to the rescue," he laughed. "Okay. Let's go." He slapped the lights on and flipped a U-turn to catch up to the car chase. The siren whooped loudly and then screamed as they picked up speed. After a few minutes, Sharon could see other black-and-whites ahead of them, traveling in a pack down the road. She couldn't see the car being chased, but it apparently turned, as the stream of LAPD cars moved to the left.

She turned in her seat to get a better view of the road behind her and Meri. "Clear."

He spun the wheel to the left and they screeched around the corner. The car was trying to shake the police, turning down roads, seemingly at random.

"Clear." They spun around the corner again.

"Clear." The other way this time. Sharon was pressed back into her seat.

"Centripetal force," Meri grinned. "Nothing like a good car chase." He slammed on the brakes, throwing himself and Sharon against the seatbelts. "Sorry. It looks like we're stopping." The cars ahead were slowing too.

Sharon leaned out her window and peered over the cars. "I think we have the perp pinned. I can see cars on the other side of a sedan ahead of our group. There're people getting out." She could see cops flipping their car doors wide open and kneeling behind them, weapons drawn. "I think he's armed."

Meri grabbed her arm and pulled her back in. "Then you're waiting here. I'm going to go up and see what's going on."

"Mer-"

"No. Wait here. That's an order, Sergeant."

Sharon huffed angrily, but sat back. "Fine."

Meri ducked out and jogged up to the front line of cars, hunched over. He was talking to another man, half kneeling, hand on his gun. Sharon couldn't hear anything so she cast her gaze over the others, trying to pick out any familiar faces. It was hard from the back, all she could make out was a few long ponytails and service stripes on peoples' sleeves. Nothing conclusive. She was pretty sure Lucy was the tall blonde in the second row, but she wasn't sure. She was studying the woman when a sudden movement caught her eye. The man had dropped his gun and was making a run for it. Sharon's mouth dropped in surprise.

"That crazy son of gun..."

She was even more surprised when he turned in her direction, racing down the sidewalk. She watched him, checking for other weapons. She couldn't see any. She could hear Meri's voice in her head_. Wait here. That's an order._ She could see the others running after the man, but she knew they were still too far away.

So she did the first thing that came to mind. She waited until the man was nearly even with her car, then flung the door wide open. He crashed into the door, nearly flipping over the top with his speed. The door swung in again, but Sharon had braced it with her legs, and she shoved it open again, before leaping out and crashing into the man as he stumbled past the door.

He fell backward and she slammed on top of him. It left her breathless for a moment, but the man below her was gasping for breath. He blinked and his fist curved up to her face. It happened so quickly she didn't know what happened until she fell off him and her own hands reached up to him. She caught his feet with her legs and grasped his shirt in both hands. He tumbled over again and she punched him square in the nose. Then the others were there, lifting her off him and pulling him back, handcuffs sparkling in the light.

Meri stepped up to Sharon's side, trying not to smile. "I thought I said to stay put," he said, trying to be serious.

"I must have misheard you, sir," Sharon deadpanned. "My apologies."

He rolled his eyes and then turned away. "Anyone got a kleenex for the girl cop's nose?" he called.

Sharon touched her nose gingerly, and found her fingertips slightly sticky with blood. "It's fine; it'll stop in a minute."

Meri passed her a couple paper towels. "We'll just leave now. Robbery-Homicide might need a statement, 'cause I think this was their case, but it can wait. Let's head back to the plaza and get you cleaned up."

Not more than fifteen minutes later, she was standing at the bathroom mirror, washing her face. The nosebleed had been superficial, her nose perfectly normal. However, she could see the beginnings of a bruise around her eye and cheekbone. She had some concealer stored in her desk. She went to fetch it and was greeted by several members of her squad, gathered around her desk.

Carter, an incredibly tall older man, was the first to speak. "I heard you took a perp down today. He was your first tackle, wasn't he?"

"I didn't tackle him, just opened a door in his face."

Lucy laughed loudly. "Yeah, then you tackled him and broke his nose." She grinned. "Congrats! You officially have the first addition to your file."

"What!" Sharon gasped.

"FID put a little note on your file," Meri said. "Something along the lines of "Sergeant Sharon Raydor used justifiable force to subdue a suspect as he tried to escape police custody." Nothing exciting or the least bit close to bending any regs, but still. You've been initiated into the club."

"Ah." Sharon smiled back. "Good. I think."

Lucy shoved her back towards the door. "Before you cover up that bruise, Commander Bancroft in FID wants to see you and Robbery-Homicide would like your statement."

Sharon checked her watch. Four-forty-five. She still had time before she had to pick up Ricky, if she was quick. She waved goodbye and then slid out the door. Meri ducked out after her and stopped her a short distance down the hall.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, just this," she said, touching the bruise. After a moment, she saw what he was getting at. "Meri. Don't worry. Everything's fine."

"I do worry when you pull stunts."

"I'll try not to. This was accidental."

"Try not to have any more accidental flying tackles, as spectacular as they may be," he said, smiling.

She relaxed, realizing he wasn't angry. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

She turned and headed back towards FID and Robbery-Homicide. They shared a floor, and she slipped into the RH department first. It was almost empty, only a few officers left. Sharon walked over to them and and a dark-haired man in a black suit turned to her.

"I was told someone up here wanted a statement from me..." she started. She felt incredibly grubby in her dusty and bloodstained uniform, but she kept her expression cool and flat.

"You're here about the Rogers case?"

"I think so."

He looked her over. "You the one who took the perp out with a car door?"

She blushed, mask cracking. "Yes, sir."

"That was a nice take-down, Officer," he said. "Mark Stoddard. I'm the department head, here."

"Sharon Raydor."

"Good to meet you," he replied. "I'll need a signed copy of your statement within the next day or two. The sooner the better, but don't kill yourself over it. It's an open and closed case."

"Yes, sir. And I just bring it back here?"

"Yup."

"Okay." She stepped back. "Good day, sir."

"Sergeant." Stoddard turned back to his detectives as Sharon walked away. FID was just across the hall. She slipped out the door and had just passed the elevators when they dinged and opened. Two voices emerged, speaking heatedly.

"I didn't use excessive force!"

"I know that, you just have to tell that to FID."

"Again."

"Yes, well, they just get a little over-zealous when it comes to perps with nosebleeds."

"I'll say." The voice paused, and then began again in a louder tone. "Hey, Officer!"

Sharon turned, finding the two detectives from earlier that day. Flynn and Provenza? She waited for them to catch up, then the three of them continued down the hall, Sharon in the middle of the two.

"Headed to FID?" she asked.

"Yeah, Flynn here managed to piss off our perp. The fool banged his face on his own car when Flynn cuffed him."

Sharon read the subtext easily, but chose not to respond.

"Are you going the same way... oh, hold on." Provenza closed his eyes. "Sharon? That right?"

"Yes," Sharon smiled slightly. She was astonished the man had remembered her name. "Sharon Raydor, and I have indeed been summoned to the dragon's lair."

Flynn looked at her closely. "Say, are you related to Jack Raydor?"

"Do you know him?" she said, surprised.

"Yeah, a bit. Used to see him a lot, actually, but not so much anymore," Flynn said vaguely. He looked at her pointedly, and she replied to the original question.

"Ah. Jack's my husband."

Provenza nodded, a decidedly neutral expression on his face. "He said you were on the force. Never really went into specifics, though." They reached the FID office, and Provenza swept the door open. "After you."

"Thanks." She slid past him, headed for the Commander's office. She had one hand on the door before Flynn called her name.

"Hey Sharon, maybe sometime you could come out for drinks with the lot of us in RHD. I'm a bit of a lightweight-"

Provenza snorted. "By 'light-weight' he means 'no-weight.'"

"-but it might be fun," Flynn finished with an eye-roll to Provenza.

"Maybe," she smiled. She knocked on the commander's door. He called for her to enter, so she waved goodbye to the detectives and slipped inside.

"Commander."

"Sergeant Raydor. Take a seat." The head of FID was tall, dark-haired, and built like a quarterback. Sharon had heard rumors that he used to be semi-pro before he joined the LAPD. He sat down behind his desk and pulled a wafer-thin folder out of a drawer. He flipped it open and pushed it over to her. "This is your file. As you can see, there's not much there. Just your information and notices of promotion."

The left side held several papers hidden under a page with her personal information and a small photo. The right side was a mostly blank lined record sheet with a few entries scrawled across it. Sharon tapped the newest entry with one finger. _April 20, 1988. Sergeant Raydor involved in car chase and aggressive arrest. _She frowned at the words. Aggressive? _Multiple witnesses, stories corroborate, Raydor's actions were justified. No charges or complaints filed. See report for full details._

"Not much there," Bancroft said. "Rather unusual, around here." He reached over to take it back and passed her a typed sheet that neatly summarized the afternoon's events. Sharon was surprised by FID's apparent efficiency. "As far as my lieutenants could tell, you weren't at fault, so there won't be any trouble for you. I just need you to read that statement and sign it, if it's correct."

She did so and was about to get up to leave when Bancroft stopped her. His eyes were on the report as he spoke. "It says you were waiting in the car. I was wondering why that was. Is there some problem between you and Detective Arthur?" He glanced up.

Sharon froze for a second, unsure how to explain. "No, not really. It's just..."

"Just what?"

She sighed inwardly. It wasn't that she minded telling him, but only her family, friends, and direct superiors knew. The Head of FID didn't exactly meet any of those qualifications. "I'm going to have a baby in October or so and Detective Arthur is just trying to keep me from doing anything spectacularly stupid," she said calmly.

Bancroft quirked his eyebrows. "Fair enough," he said looking back down at his files. "You're free to go, Sergeant. Congratulations."

She was somewhat surprised, but she took the dismissal happily and left the office. She was almost back out the door when one of the FID lieutenants stopped her. "Just a second, Sergeant. We need a photo of your injury for our records." She sighed and posed for what she was sure to be an awful photo of her dusty face and black eye. The man turned back to his desk and somewhere in the back of the room a door slammed open, then shut, in quick procession.

"I didn't even do anything!" a loud voice growled. "Nothing at all that time!"

Sharon smiled to herself and waited for Flynn and Provenza to catch up, before they all burst out into the hallway.

"Son of a bitch!" Provenza said loudly.

"Language," Sharon murmured, the word slipping out before she thought.

Provenza looked at her closely, but Flynn laughed. "Don't worry about it. It's just another slap on the wrist. I was given another warning for unnecessary force," he added for Sharon. "A couple of them were justified, but honestly, _honestly, _I just have the worst luck on the force. We get all the assholes."

"Tell me about it," Provenza grumbled."I've got one for everything in the book."

They reached the elevators, and Sharon stopped there. Provenza and Flynn bid her goodbye as they continued back to Robbery Homicide, Provenza mumbling something about 'Pineapple Monyca' and sodas.

When she reached her car, she tossed her purse in the passenger seat and reversed out, headed for Saint Joseph's daycare center. She arrived at five-twenty, not quite late, and realized she had never managed to clean up. She looked down and rubbed her black tie, flicking chips of dried blood out the window. In the rearview mirror she didn't look too bad; if she let her hair out of its bun it would fall to hide the majority of the black eye. She did so, then slid out of the car and walked inside.

There were a few other parents there, most of whom Sharon knew. She stood to the back of the group and watched the kids playing. The daycare was a large open room with a kitchen and a few other small rooms at the back. There was a small chapel in the hallway leading to the church main. After a moment, she stepped up and joined the others as the daycare attendants rounded up the last few kids and herded them to the coatroom. The other women casually included Sharon in their conversation.

"Have you been to the new store on Harper? It's a grocery, sells all sorts of organics."

"Did you see that they sell dehydrated peanut butter? Apparently you just add water is it's much healthier than regular. I've been to scared to try it though; it's nearly ten dollars a jar."

Sharon tuned most of the conversation out, only half listening unti someone called her name. "Hmm?"

"What happened to you face?" Marcia Pierce was tall, a doctor, beautifully dressed, as always.

"Oh." The others had turned to listen in. "At work-"

"You did that at work?" a new woman exclaimed. "Where in heaven's name-"

"Sharon's a cop, Sissy. Didn't you see the uniform?" Anna interrupted sarcastically. "Go on, Shar."

"We had a car chase and I ended up having to take someone out," Sharon started slowly. "I tackled him and it got a little heated."

Marcia laughed. "Just a little. I hope he looks worse." The woman was a wonderful ally. She and Sharon weren't incredibly close companions, but Marcia's son had some playdates with Ricky from time to time, and the two women had a colloquial friendship.

Sharon smiled back. "Don't worry. I heard I broke his nose." Sissy looked horrified, but the others laughed, turning away as the kids came running, toys and jackets in hand.

"Hey, buddy," Sharon said, kneeling to Ricky's level. "How's it going?"

Her son was towheaded, with curious green eyes and a bright smile. "Good. Me 'n' Neil played castles 'cause Sissa May let us make forts wif blankets."

"That sounds fun. Did you help Sister May clean up?"

"Yes!"

"Good. I hope you're hungry. I think Daddy made dinner tonight." She swept Ricky up onto her hip, where he wrapped his arms around her and balanced on her kitted-out belt. She waved goodbye to the sisters and headed out. She had just settled Ricky into his carseat and closed the door when someone tapped her shoulder.

"Sharon," Marcia started. "Tackling people? Really, are you sure everything's okay?"

"I'm fine Marcia. I didn't fall far and the guy was a good pillow."

Marcia frowned. "I'm not going to press it, but I do have some space tomorrow afternoon. If you change your mind and want to swing by just call. You do have my number, right?"

"Marci, honestly, you're the only neonatal doctor at Cedars. I think I can track you down if need be."

"Fine. But you'd better call tomorrow, to check in, if nothing else." She started walking back to her car. "There aren't too many Sharon Raydors in the LAPD, so don't think I can't find you." She smiled and waved as Sharon rolled her eyes.

Sharon opened the car door and slid into her seat. She turned the ignition over, then craned around to look at Ricky. "What do you say? Ready to go home?"

**_A/N- Thanks for the reviews; I'll try to get chapters up regularly. It's all just kinda being made up as I go along, with adjustments as needed. I don't really have a detailed plan for this, so feel free to leave suggestions. The church is loosely based off the one I went to and the idea for the takedown was from another (mis)adventure (;_**


	3. Easy Silence

_**A/N- Thanks for the reviews. Why so anon? I don't think I ever explicitly stated, but I'm setting this about 24 years back, circa 1989, assuming Sharon is in her mid-to-late fifties at current times. I don't know if that's quite right, but idk, haha**_

_I come to find a refuge in the easy silence that you make for me._

-The Dixie Chicks, Easy Silence

* * *

Sharon pulled her little gold sedan up into her driveway, parking neatly behind Jack's navy car. Their small house stood at the other end of the concrete. Jack had found it nearly five years before, after several hours spent pouring over real estate leaflets and brochures. There were two bedrooms, an office, and even a dining room. The Raydors shared the lone bathroom and the office would be converted to a nursery, so it would be tight, but Sharon liked it. It kept the family close together. It was pretty, in the Craftsman style, with clean angles, bright windows, and a smattering of oak.

She got out and hefted her purse over one shoulder and let Ricky out of the child-locked back seat. He took off, running for the front door, while Sharon followed at a more stately pace. She walked in the open door behind her son, toed his cast-off shoes into the corner of the entryway, and hung his backpack on its hook in the entry closet. Ricky's voice carried clearly from the kitchen, where he was talking to Jack.

Sharon kicked off her own shoes, then padded through the living room and into the master bedroom. She kept a small safe under her nightstand for her service weapon, a light-weight Beretta. She took the key from her purse, unlocked it, then spun in the combination, and opened the safe. She had bought a safe with two locks, because she had heard all the horror stories about people breaking into officers' safes and taking their guns before wreaking havoc. She knew most of the stories had no truthful basis, but nonetheless found herself believing them. So she locked her gun, badge, and belt away before rising and wandering over to the closet.

"Shar?" Jack called from the kitchen.

"Just changing clothes," she replied. She undid her tie and peeled her socks off, threw them into the laundry, unbuttoned her grimy shirt, kicked off her pants, and dropped the crumpled heap on top of the socks. The evening was still hot and humid, so she dug a light cotton dress out of her closet and pulled it on over her head. It was one of her favorites, a summery pastel plaid. She turned and leaned close to the vanity mirror to run her finger over the bruise on her face. It was hardly puffy, just a violent shade of purple. She cracked open a bottle of concealer and smeared the cream over her cheekbone and temple with two fingers before joining Jack and Ricky in the kitchen.

"I made burritos for dinner, just to shake things up a bit," Jack said. "Black beans, cheese, cilantro, some bacon bits, and egg." He raised a finger as Sharon opened her mouth. "No eggs on yours, Shar, I remembered. I just don't understand how you don't like eggs," he laughed. He picked up the burritos, silverware, napkins, and swept past Sharon en route to the patio connected to the dining room. "I was thinking we could eat outside; you've been stuck in a car all day."

"That would be wonderful." She gathered a pitcher of pink lemonade from the fridge and three glasses before following Jack and Ricky outside. In contrast to the rest of the house, the patio was spacious, overlooking the back lawn.

Ricky was the only noisemaker at the table. He recanted the day in between bites of burrito and slurps of lemonade. Sharon watched her husband, glad that he hadn't made a move to get a beer from the fridge. A short time later, Ricky pushed himself away from the table and ran to the small sandbox in the near the dogwood tree.

"How did your day go, Jack?"

"Not bad," he replied. "Picked up a new case at the office. It'll be a long one, but it'll pay well when I finish."

"That's good."

"And your day?"

"Nothing too exciting. Just the normal ticketing and report writing, mostly."

"Mostly?" Jack looked up. Sharon followed his eyes as he scrutinized her, searching her expression. Suddenly his face changed, and he reached across the table, swiping his thumb through the concealer. "What happened?" he said sharply.

She sighed and leaned back. "We had a takedown and it got a little messy. It's just a bruise; don't worry about it."

He looked sad, like a kicked puppy. "But I do worry about you, Shar. 'Thy husband is thy lord, thy life... The one that cares for thee... And craves no other tribute at thy hands But love.'"

Sharon smiled despite herself. "Shakespeare?"

Jack grinned back. "The Taming of the Shrew. You're getting better at this." He pulled her over, onto his lap and wetted his napkin in the lemonade, before using it to dab the rest of the make-up off.

Sharon closed her eyes. The cool dampness felt good, as did Jack's gentle touch. He continued for a few more minutes before stopping. Sharon leaned into him and he stroked her hair.

"Shar, I'm not complaining, but really, please be more careful. Can't you get a desk job?"

"I don't want a desk job," she mumbled.

He sighed. "Then at least don't go boxing with your perps, alright?"

"Deal." She held her right hand up over her head, and Jack grasped it and awkwardly shook.

"Deal."

They sat in the sunset for a while longer. The evening was still warm, but had lost some of the sticky humidity of the day. Sharon wasn't sure if she had fallen asleep or not when Jack finally stirred.

"I think it's bedtime for everyone," he said. He carefully eased out from under Sharon and walked into the lawn to collect Ricky. Sharon got up as well and went back inside. She set the dishes in the sink and continued to Ricky's room. It was pained soft green on three walls and baby carrot orange on the fourth. She organized the spaceship sheets and blanket on the bed in the corner and folded them back. Ricky was now clattering about in the bathroom next-door. A few minutes later he appeared in his room, clad in pajamas.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yes." He bounced into the room.

"Pick out a book then. We need to start a new one." Sharon sat down on the bed as Ricky ran his fingers over the books on his shelf.

"This one!"

Sharon took the selected book as he curled up in bed next to her. "Are you sure? It's a Christmas book."

"Yes!"

She smiled at his enthusiasm. "All right." She leaned back next to him and cracked the book open. It was a beautifully illustrated tale, beginning with Creation and ending with Christ's Resurrection. The main character was a boy who was hearing the tale for the first time. "'The boy hunkered down and yanked his cap farther over his ears as the wind rose to a roar across the ridge...'"

Ricky's fingers traced the pictures as she read, and it wasn't long before he fell asleep. She quietly closed the book and slid off the bed. Ricky shifted in his sleep and Sharon leaned down to kiss his forehead before leaving, shutting the door softly behind her.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?" He was sitting of the sofa, back to her, watching the news on TV.

"Nothing." She sat next to him and he wrapped one arm over her shoulders. The scent of some sweet liquor drifted past her and she looked to Jack's other hand. He was holding a tall glass of something pink and sweet. "What's that?"

He didn't look over. "It's mostly lemonade, Shar."

"We talked about this. You said-"

"I remember what I said. I said I'd cut back. This is only one drink. Don't worry about it."

She was quiet for a while, until the advertisements cut in. "Say, Jack, do you know an Andy Flynn?"

"Yeah, met with him and his partner a few times for some stuff in Robbery-Homicide. Not so much now that I'm working at the firm. We've been out for drinks a few times. Why?"

Mentally, Sharon's esteem of the detective dropped a few notches. "No reason, really. I met him today at work. He mentioned you."

"Nice guy. If you see him again tell him I said hello."

"Sure."

They lapsed into silence again as the news returned. After a while, Sharon caught herself falling asleep again, so she pulled herself up and stood. "I'm going to bed." She kissed Jack lightly. "Don't stay up late." She left the room and walked back down the dark hall to their bedroom. It was small and simple; Sharon had decorated it. The walls were veneered in light oak the first three feet up from the floor, and then the walls were cream-colored, decorated with photos and a few tasteful sketches. There were two matching dressers, a desk and chair, a large bookshelf, and a bed. The bed was in the far corner between two windows, covered by a large quilt that Sharon's mother had made several years back.

She changed clothes again, this time rehanging the dress and pulling out a set of daisy patterned pajamas. She grabbed a towel and ducked into the bathroom. It was the coolest room in the house, but she still took a cold shower, letting the water rinse the grime of the day away. When she was finished, she stepped out, toweled off, changed into the pajamas, and brushed her teeth with the blue fleur-de-lis toothbrush that was next to Ricky's green dinosaur one. In the bedroom, she knelt to say her prayers before climbing into bed.

It wasn't long before she heard the TV switch off. A few minutes later, Jack entered the room. He took off his suit, carefully rehanging and folding every piece, until he stood only in his boxers.

Sharon rolled over to watch him pray and when he got into bed she laughed softly. "I didn't know you still had those star-spangled boxers."

He grinned. "You got them for me at Christmas. They're my favorites, Shar." He pulled her close to kiss her, and she was relieved to find his breath only smelled faintly minty from his toothpaste. He held her close and she relaxed.

"How's the kid?" he asked, not meaning Ricky, asleep across the hall.

"Good, I think. Marcia Pierce- do you remember her?"

"Neil's mother, the doc?" Jackson guessed.

"Yes, her. She said that she had some spare time tomorrow afternoon if I wanted to come in, but I think everything is fine."

"Shar, it wouldn't hurt to go in. You could take off from work early, I could meet you there. We could even pick Ricky up afterwards and all go out for dinner."

"That'd be nice. Heaven knows we haven't done that in a while."

"No, we haven't." Jack was quiet for a while. "Good night, then, Shar."

"Sweet dreams," she said softly. She snuggled closer to him and was soon asleep.

**_A/N- Again, if you have suggestions, let me know. The book- One Wintry Night- is real. It's by Ruth Graham Bell and has the most stunning illustrations I've ever seen, by one Richard Jesse Watson. Check it out if you can (:_**


	4. Stay This Simple

**_A/N- I apologize for the time between chapters. I had been hoping to get them up much faster. I was out backpacking in the mountains, and then nothing was flowing together right. I'm out in the mountains again for a few days, but this time, I promise I'll write and you'll get new chapters when I'm back. Thanks to all the reviewers who are sticking with me! (:_**

_"Oh, I don't wanna grow up, wish I'd never grown up. It could still be simple."_

_-Never Grow Up, Taylor Swift_

Sharon woke in the middle of the night, with a urgent need to find a trashcan. The bathroom was past Jack's side of the bed, so she threw back the covers and clambered over him, barely pausing as he grunted and woke up. She clamped one hand over her mouth and sprinted out the door.

He joined her in the bathroom a minute later, sat on the floor, and held her hair back. He was very calm about it; he always had been, even with Ricky.

"Pity you get it in the night. It's got to be the most inconvenient thing, hmm?"

She spat into the trashcan, and sat back on her heels. "My sister was the same way."

"Yeah, I remember. We were at your parents' house for Christmas and she was in the room next door. Didn't sleep a wink that whole damn trip." He smiled and laughed softly. " That wasn't entirely her fault, though. It was partially you."

She giggled, coughed, and leaned back into the trashcan.

Jack readjusted his hold on her hair and leaned back against the wall. "I'm glad your parents' room was on the other side of the house. And your brother's room. His snoring masked everything. Do you remember that time we-" he stopped short, laughing. "I still can't say it out loud."

"Just as well," she replied. "I think I'm done."

"Okay. You go back to bed-"

"No, Jack, you have court tomorrow."

"A few minutes either way won't change anything, and that's all it'll take to clean up. Go on."

She nodded, stood, washed up, brushed her teeth again. She had just gotten into bed when he came back in.

"See? I'm all done; it was easy." He joined her and pulled her close.

"I smell awful," she mumbled into his shoulder.

He ran his hands down her back. "All I smell is mint." He gently massaged every bit of her he could reach and she hummed happily. He laughed again and traced his fingers along her legs. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was having Jack's arms tight around her, thinking he was so much better when he was sober.

When Sharon woke up the next morning, Jack was already gone. She slipped out of bed and into the kitchen. A slip of paper was tacked to the fridge, with "Sharon" written in block letters at the top. She pulled it out from under the magnet.

_SHARON- Left early to finish up a few last-minute things for court. It's just pre-lims today, so I should be done before your appointment. Think about where you want to go to dinner; let me know when we meet up and I'll get reservations. Have a good day. Love, Jack_

She snorted and shoved the note into her bag. Jack was following his old, familiar pattern. It was a roller coaster of hills and valleys. He'd come home late and she'd catch him, or he wouldn't come home. After, he'd be on his best behavior, swear to be better, then start slipping away again, leaving early and returning late.

She turned the kettle on and walked back to the bathroom for a shower. She'd skip her run to stay with Ricky. She hung her pajamas over the hook on the back of the bathroom door, turned on the water. Without her morning workout, she took extra time washing her hair. When she finished, the room was filled with rosemary-minty steam. It billowed past into the bedroom when she opened the door. She collected her clean clothes uniform from the chair they were folded over and pulled them on, bemusedly realizing Jack was right, that she didn't need her belt for anything other than holding her gun, handcuffs, and other tools. She laughed quietly as she pulled her hair back, did her make-up, and left to wake Ricky.

She sat on the edge of his bed and watched him sleep. His blonde hair was strewn about like a halo and his face twitched into a smile. She reached out and shook his shoulder gently. "Ricky, honey, it's time to get up."

He rolled over and blinked up at her. "I had a dream," he said sleepily.

"Yeah?" She got up and started pulling clothes out for him like she did most mornings.

"There was a big dog," he said as he rolled out of bed. "And a ball. And I threw the ball for the dog and we had fun. Can we get a dog, Mommy?" he asked abruptly.

She smiled at him. "Not right now."

"But-"

"Ricky," she said gently. "You're going to have a baby sister or brother soon enough and it's too hard to take care of a baby and a dog." _Especially if your dad keeps disappearing like this. _

Ricky huffed at her. "Fine." He took his clothes and trotted off to the bathroom.

Sharon smiled as he went, knowing he'd have forgotten all about dogs by the time he came out for breakfast. She walked out to the kitchen and surveyed the shelves in the pantry before choosing a box of oatmeal. She measured out enough for herself and Ricky and cooked it over the stove, adding raisins and milk as it warmed. When Ricky joined her, she pushed his bowl over to him and spoke.

"Dad was thinking I could pick you up early and we could all go to dinner."

"At a diner?"

"Yes, at a diner. Is there anywhere you'd like to go, particularly?"

"Someplace with mac cheese."

"Macaroni and cheese?" Sharon clarified.

"Yes! Mac cheese!"

Sharon thought about it. "What if we went to an Italian restaurant?"

"Do they have mac cheese?"

"They have all sorts of pasta. You can get it with cheese, or chicken, or tomatoes-"

"Cheese," he said firmly.

"I'll tell Daddy so he can make reservations, then." Sharon began to clear the dishes. "Go get your backpack." She washed the bowls, set the pot to soak, gathered her things, and waited by the door. Ricky came rocketing past a minute later, bag in hand.

Sharon dropped Ricky at his daycare, and drove to the Parker Center. She parked in her usual spot and walked to the elevators. There was a large crowd of officers, as per usual, but she didn't see Flynn or Provenza. For some reason, she felt relieved not to have to speak with them. When she got in the elevator, a few minutes later, she rode up to the seventh floor, rather than the second. She stepped out, handbag over her shoulder. It was dark in Robbery-Homicide, the blinds drawn and lights off. Apparently they had received a call-out and had yet to return.

She walked through the desks, her shoes thumping softly on the tiles. There was a large office at the back that she assumed was the department head's. When she got close enough she could see the small brass placard: Deputy Chief Mark Stoddard. She opened the door, leaned in, and tossed her report on his desk. It felt wrong to be in the office alone, so she quickly shut the door and hurried back out.

She didn't pass anyone on the was to FID, and it struck her as somewhat humorous. Every other hallway would be swarming with people at this hour. She ducked into their offices, brightly lit this time, and waited for the woman at the front desk to finish her phone conversation.

"How can I help you?" she asked a moment later.

"I have my report on the-" she paused, trying to remember the name. "The Rogers case from yesterday."

The woman stood and lead Sharon through a warren of desks and portable whiteboards. "Commander Bancroft would like to speak with you."

Sharon frowned. "I thought everything was taken care of already."

The woman shrugged, not bothering to turn around. "I can't say ma'am; all I know is that he requested to speak with you." She knocked on the Commander's door and held it open for Sharon.

Sharon stepped in, report in hand. "Sir?"

"Sit down, Sergeant," Bancroft said pleasantly. "We have a proposal for you." He was seated behind his desk, neatly dressed in a dark gray suit. A tall, hawk-like woman sat across from him. She wore an elegant skirt suit and her ruffled gray hair was cropped short.

Sharon sat next to the woman and placed her report on Bancroft's desk. He picked it up, surprised.

"Quick work, Sergeant."

"I don't like to leave loose ends," she said quietly. "Sir, what-"

He set the report down and looked up. "Sergeant, you're taking leave at the end of October and coming back in December, is that correct?"

"Yes," she replied. "Why-"

The other woman interrupted. "Sergeant Raydor, I am Commander Laurie Hotchkiss, from Special Ops. I am also the Woman's Coordinator for the LAPD. Commander Bancroft asked me to speak with him after you came by his office last night. We have some ideas and thought we'd see if you were interested."

Sharon raised her eyebrows. "Interested in what, ma'am?"

"We wanted to know if you'd be interested in taking over the Professional Standards Bureau."

**_A/N- I know it's not much, but I wanted you to have something and I promise there will be more in four days (: Thanks for sticking around!_**


	5. Crystal Clear

**_A/N- See, I told you. I wrote. My notebook is dirty and slightly charred, but I had fun. Thanks to the reviewers, especially Taylor, who has left several (: Thanks! Also on today's agenda, Sharon learns a lesson that she will remember..._**

_You will pay for your sins, you'll be sorry my dear. _

_All the lies, all the whys, will all be crystal clear._

_-Blow Me One Last Kiss, P!nk_

"Excuse me?" Sharon must have misheard.

"I'm planning to retire next fall, and FID will need a new head," Bancroft said calmly.

"But I don't know anything about Internal Affairs!" she sputtered. "Most of your department outranks me, and-"

Hotchkiss cut in. "We realize those things, but you must realize that transfers and promotions often come together."

"If you accept a transfer to FID following you return from maternity leave, I can make you Captain," Bancroft continued.

Sharon stared at the man, flabbergasted. According to traditional ranking, she would have to be promoted thrice more, through both lieutenant ranks, to reach Captain. She had heard of people jumping up through the ranks, but it was uncommon.

"That's a nice offer, Sarge," Hotchkiss muttered, carefully pulling rank.

Sharon finally found her voice. "I had been hoping to return to active duty."

"You would still receive call-outs in FID; it isn't all administrative."

"There's a substantial pay raise and more regular hours. Easier on the family," Hotchkiss added suggestively.

"Could I have some time to think about it?" Sharon asked.

Hotchkiss and Bancroft looked at each other, clearly somewhat dismayed.

"Two weeks sounds fair," Bancroft said, his voice betraying no emotion. "Come back with your answer by-" he paused to look at his calendar. "May sixteenth."

When Sharon left, Hotchkiss followed her out into the hall. The older woman put an arm around Sharon's shoulders and steered her behind an abandoned whiteboard.

"Sergeant, as a fellow police officer and as your superior, I truly hope you accept this transfer. You would have to take on the terrible burdens of additional pay, better hours, and promotion," she said sarcastically. "But it would do the other women of the LAPD good to see you in a position of power. At this time, you are the second-highest ranking woman in the force, myself above you. There are more lower-ranked women, and they need someone to look up to. Someone they can relate to. Besides, I won't be here forever, and when I'm gone I want someone strong and insightful to be the Women's Coordinator." She stared at Sharon pointedly, then slipped her business card into Sharon's hand, turned, and disappeared into the depths of FID.

Sharon stood there for a moment, before retreating back to the main patrol desk, five stories down, to start a late shift.

The young officer on the desk looked confused when she came in.

"Sarge, you've got the day off."

"What?"

He looked at her strangely. "Computer says you're on administrative leave today, as per FID."

"Oh," she mumbled. Bancroft seriously wanted her to consider his offer. "Thanks."

"Yeah," the man said. "Did FID not tell you they were forcing you to take off? They can be real assholes sometimes, pardon the language."

She smiled weakly and began the walk back to her car, Hotchkiss' card burning a hole in her pocket.

Sharon ended up just going home, wondering what to do with all the free time. She called Marcia and made an appointment for late afternoon, then changed into well-worn jeans and an old LAPD tee. She left the business card in her work pants' pocket, though. She didn't want to think about it. She had never considered a transfer, especially one to Internal Affairs. She had always just assumed she would return from maternity leave and rejoin Meriwether on patrol. Ricky and the baby could go to daycare on the days both she and Jack worked, and she would watch them on her days off. Jack was always off by seven, so he could watch them during her night shifts.

_If he doesn't go out drinking,_ she thought. She squashed the idea immediately. Jack would be there for her.

And to be transfered to Internal Affairs! Who in their right mind would transfer there? She had heard the pay was good, but she wasn't sure that would make up for the blatant disrespect with which IA officers were generally treated. She wasn't sure about the 'administrative' aspect, either. She enjoyed sitting shotgun with Meri and being in the forefront. As far as she knew, FID officers only ventured outside their offices after the perp was dead and the running was done. They stole crime scenes and evidence, even suspects, upon occasion.

"Why the hell would I want to join them?" she asked aloud. "Maybe the dark side has cookies," she added, laughing darkly.

She spent her remaining time cleaning house. It was strange, but she found it almost pleasant to have the house to herself as she scrubbed the place with classical ballet echoing through the stereo.

_**A/N- I know things are happening quite slowly at this point, but it'll pick up soon. I'm just trying to get everything adjusted before we take off (; Again, if anyone has anything they notice or want brought in, just tell me and I'll let you know.**_


	6. Nothing Will Keep Us Together

_**A/N- I'm so sorry not to have updated. I realize now I left you with an incredibly short last chapter. I apologize; all those chapters I wrote while backpacking come further along in the story (I wasn't sequential.). I just got moved to uni and had my first couple weeks of classes, but we had a long weekend. Hopefully, I'll get more up soon. Thanks to everyone for sticking around, especially Taylor, Isolith, and Miss Shannon for reviewing (:**_

_Yes, we're lovers, and that is that,_

_Though nothing will keep us together._

_-Heroes, David Bowie_

Around three, Sharon began winding down. Her infatuation with cleanliness was wearing off. She put everything away and pulled out a new set of clothes. She had called Jack and he'd said he'd take her out somewhere nice for dinner, but didn't go farther than that. She picked out a dress Jack had bought for her after his last big case. It was stormy gray with coppery sequins washing up from the bottom of the fluffy skirt. By four-thirty, Sharon had arrived at Cedars Hospital and made her way to Marcia Pierce's office. She was unsurprised when she found Jack wasn't there waiting. She decided not to bother trying to call; either he would come or he wouldn't.

There wasn't anyone else waiting, in fact, Marcia herself was lounging in the waiting room drinking pitch black coffee. She was wearing a white lab coat, half-buttoned, over her flower-patterned scrubs. Unlike many other women her age, she wasn't reading Vogue or a paperback romance. She had an oversize copy of Calvin and Hobbes in her lap.

"Marcia?"

"Sharon! I'm glad you called. I thought I'd have to make a house call." She shut her book and bounded up. "Where's Jack?"

Sharon smiled tightly. "I think he's on his way," she said trying to sound cheerful.

Marcia rolled her eyes. "Mmhmm. That's what they all say. Do you want to wait-"

"No, it's fine. Let's just get started."

Jack swung into his car, dropped his briefcase on the passenger seat, and glanced at the clock. 4:37.

"Oh, shit." He had promised Sharon he'd meet her at four-thirty for her doctor's appointment. Cedars was across town from the courthouse. "Shit, shit, shit." He slipped the keys into the ignition and roared away, darting between lanes when he could.

After two red lights and fifteen minutes, he finally pulled up to the hospital. He locked the car and walked in. The hallways all looked the same. He picked one at random, hoping it would lead upstairs, where he thought Sharon had said her doctor was. _Or did she say the first floor?_ He couldn't remember. He hurried up the first flight of stairs he found, and, to his relief, he found the door for Dr. Marcia Pierce staring him in the face.

"My wife has an appointment here..." he trailed off.

The secretary looked nonplussed.

"Sharon Raydor. I was running late-"

The woman looked at him with what was clearly disdain. "Room two, on the left. She said you were welcome to join her if you showed up." There was an emphasis on "if."

"Thank you," Jack smiled, trying his best to leave a good impression. He ducked into the back hall an quickly found the room. He knocked, then let himself in. The room was brightly lit by the large window and he found Dr. Pierce already putting her equipment away.

"Sharon is getting dressed. She'll be back in a minute." Marcia didn't even look up from what she was doing.

"How did it go?" He leaned against the exam table, trying to appear casual.

"You'd know if you'd been here," Marcia said sharply.

"I was-"

"I don't care." Marcia snapped her files shut. "You're supposed to be _here._ I don't care if you have court, if you want to go out for a drink... You have to be here. That's part of the job. Sharon's not going to complain about it, so I will." She scrawled something across the back of a business card. "This is her next appointment. Be here, _on time_, or I will kill you myself." She gathered her papers and swept out of the room. "Wait here."

Jack stood frozen. He was somewhat shocked. He had only met the woman on a few other occasions, and she had always seemed clever but reserved. He hadn't thought being- he checked his watch- just under half an hour late would be such a big deal. Appointments always start late, he thought. So, technically, he'd only been maybe fifteen minutes late.

The door swung open and Sharon walked back in. She was wearing a nice dress that he didn't recall seeing before.

"Jack."

"Hey Shar. Sorry I was late. Traffic was terrible."

She smiled faintly and turned around. One had was on her back, holding the dress together. "Would you zip me up?"

He stepped forward and took the dress. She swept her hair out of the way and he zipped it, forcing the zipper upwards at one point, and fastened the little hook at the top.

"How did it go?"

"Fine," she said. She gathered her things. "Not much I didn't already know."

He caught the connotation. "Something you didn't know."

"Yes."

He rolled his eyes when she opened the door instead of elucidating. He followed her out to the desk, where she checked out and received her own copy of the appointment card Marcia had given Jack.

They went outside together, and Jack paused, unsure of the driving arrangements.

"I took a cab. I figured we could just drive in your car."

He nodded and lead her to his parking spot. They slipped in, backed out, and turned onto the street.

"I'm sorry."

"I know." Her cool composure was almost more hurtful than anger.

He tried again. "What did the doc say?" He reached one hand over and set it on her knee.

She sighed, and with that, the façade cracked. "She said everything was fine, but I'm not to go tackling people anymore."

"That's good."

She hummed vague agreement.

Jack glanced at her. "Shar, is there something else?"

"Marcia says she's not totally sure, but she thinks it's a girl."

Jack turned to look at her, stunned. "Really? That's fantastic! Sharon-"

"Eyes on the road, please."

He dutifully looked back to the street with a wide grin. "Really? A girl?"

"Yes," Sharon replied. He could hear excitement creeping into her voice as well, and knew she was too excited to be angry with him any longer.

They ended up picking Ricky up early. The whole way to the restaurant he babbled excitedly about his day. The class had gone on a walk; he had petted a dog; could he have a dog; where where they going?

"We're going to Shiki."

"What's She-key?"

"It's an Asian restaurant, Ricky," Sharon said. "That means you can get fish, or noodles, or curry."

"Mac-cheese?"

"No, kiddo," Jack replied. "But I bet you can get something you like."

They pulled up to the restaurant and a valet took the car away. Ricky held tightly to his parents' hands and swung between them as they slipped inside. It was a small place, painted dark green and an olive bronze. Netting and lanterns were draped across the ceiling and tall plants divided the tables and booths.

"We have a reservation for three. Raydor?"

"This way." A young waitress led them to a booth in the back, deftly weaving between the other diners. "Here are the menus. Our special tonight is coconut curry on rice, and all house cocktails are buy one, get one half off tonight. I'll be back for your orders in just a few minutes."

They spent the time until her return looking over the menus. Sharon read selections aloud to Ricky, eventually helping him decide on California rolls, as there was no macaroni and cheese to be found. The waitress was back soon after. Jack ordered sushi, Sharon the special. She was somewhat dismayed when he looked over the wine list and ordered a glass.

"It's just a glass, Sharon," he said coolly when he caught her expression. He shook his head slightly, and turned to smile at Ricky. "Hey buddy, your mum and I have something to tell you."

"What?" Ricky looked up from the kids' menu he was coloring on. "Are we getting a dog?"

"No, sorry," Sharon said. "Not right now."

"Oh." He kicked his feet in the air, looking at them expectantly.

Sharon looked to Jack, unsure of how to phrase her thoughts. He shrugged back, and she rolled her eyes. "Ricky, remember when we told you that you were going to have a little brother or sister?"

"Yeah. Is the baby here now?"

Jack laughed, grinning. "Not yet. Not for a while yet."

Sharon smiled slightly. "I had a doctor's appointment today and she said that the baby is probably a little girl. So you'll have a sister."

"Oh. Okay. When will she get here then?" he repeated.

"Sometime in October, hopefully," Sharon said.

"Will she have her own room?"

"Yes."

"Can I hold her?"

"When she gets here you may hold her if you're careful," she answered.

"I will be."

"Okay."

"What's her name?"

Sharon looked to Jack again, somewhat surprised.

"Well, we haven't picked a name yet," Jack said slowly.

"She needs one! Can I pick it?"

Sharon smiled. "You can help us pick her name. It's something we will do together, okay?"

"Okay." Ricky nodded and went back to his coloring.

Jack reached for Sharon's hand. "That went over easily.

"Indeed."

The waitress returned with their food. The Raydors sat quietly as she set the plates down.

"Would you like another glass of the wine, sir?"

Jack didn't look at Sharon. "Sure. Thanks."

As the young woman disappeared again, Sharon looked to Jack, eyebrows raised. "I'm driving."

"Alright," he said calmly. "That's fine."

They arrived home maybe an hour later. Sharon helped Ricky get ready for bed again. She read him a short story about bears and slipped off his bed when she was done. He was breathing deeply, and she watched for a moment before turning off the light and shutting the door.

She walked into the master bedroom and reached behind her head to unfasten the dress and slide it off. When it puddled to the ground, she let her breath out and welcomed the freedom to breathe deeply again. She let her hair down and wrapped a towel about herself, before heading to the lone bathroom everyone shared.

Her thoughts were wandering when she pulled the shower curtain back to begin running a bath, and she yelped in surprise. Jack had already filled the tub. In fact, he was sitting there, amid clouds of bubblegum-scented bubbles

She giggled nervously, heart still jumping.

He smiled up at her brightly. "I was just thinking that since today is kind of special, I could do something for you." He reached for a bottle and two champagne flutes that had been half-hidden on the floor. "Don't worry, it's just sparking grape juice." He poured them each a glass and Sharon sat on the edge of the bath as they sipped in comfortable silence. After a while, he set his flute on the tiled floor, and she followed suit, watching his face curiously. It looked as though he had something to say.

"What?"

"Nothing," he grinned. Suddenly, he reached up and pulled her in to the water. She shrieked loudly as foam and water splashed everywhere. He landed her gently in his lap, laughing. She threw a handful of bubbles at his face, giggling helplessly. It was times like this that she really loved him. The times when he was laughing and clear-headed and far too clever for his own good.

He scooped up a handful of foam in each hand and cupped her face. She spat bubbles out, right in Jack's face as he leaned in to kiss her. He sputtered and kissed her anyways. It was wet and somewhat bubbly, but she didn't care. Everything was perfect.


	7. Stand Tall

**A/N- This takes place a while later, as you can probably guess (you can go by the date). I have a list of various plot points I want to hit, so I'm playing around with them. Let me know if you have any ideas!**

_Stand tall for the people of America. Stand tall for the man next door._

_-Beast, Niko Vega_

* * *

The bed bounced slightly as the covers rustled, and a cool draft fluttered under the sheets. Sharon shivered slightly and rolled over, pulling the blankets tighter. She was on the edge of wakefulness, everything seemed to happen slowly, like a dream. There was a soft creak and then a gentle thump and muffled swear.

"Jack?" she mumbled sleepily.

"It's fine, Shar. Go back to sleep." He said softly. He ducked back out of the closet, tucking a crisp striped shirt into his black pants.

"What are you doing?" The words were slurred with sleep. She rolled to her side to watch Jack.

"I have a trial this morning, remember? Thursday, June 22th."

She closed her eyes. "That wasn't until later..."

"Tony called and said he needed me in a little early. Something came up. He wasn't very specific."

"Oh," she mumbled into the pillow. "Okay. You should take a Tylenol."

"What?" he said, pulling on his jacket.

She half-opened her eyes and looked at him. "You must have a headache after last night."

"I didn't have that much to drink, Sharon. I'm not hungover." His tone was suddenly defensive and somewhat sharper.

She moaned tiredly, not wanting to argue. "That's not what I meant. You came home so late that you're going to be tired. You don't want a headache in court."

Jack's expression softened. "Oh. Thank you, Shar." He sat down next to the bed. "Next time I'm out late, don't bother staying up. I don't want you exhausting yourself." He sat down next to her and set his hand on her shoulder. "Has our little girl done anything this morning?"

"No," she mumbled. She guided his hand down to her stomach and held it there. They sat that way for a minute, before she felt a soft kick. She smiled at Jack. "That's the second one..."

He grinned back, leaned down to hug her tightly, then pressed a kiss to her cheek before getting up. He pulled the covers back up. "Get some more sleep. You still have some time before you have to get up for work."

"Okay." She watched him go and was asleep again before he even left the house.

Two scant hours later, she was awoken by her alarm. She shut it off, and swung her feet to the ground, stretching out before getting up and walking to the bathroom. She soaked a washcloth in cold water, soaped it, washed her face, combed her hair back into a ponytail. Her make-up was in a cat-patterned box on the the counter. She opened it, pulled out an eyeliner marker, mascara, concealer. A few minutes later, she went back to the bedroom, shed her pajamas and tossed them over the bed. She got redressed in her uniform, leaving her shirt unbuttoned when she went to get Ricky up.

She opened his door and looked in. He wasn't there, and his covers were thrown back. "Ricky?" she called. "Ricky?"

"Mama!" his clear voice rang out from down the hall.

"Ricky!" she hurried down the hall and emerged into the kitchen. Ricky was standing on a bar stool, reaching for bowls from the cabinet. She stepped to his side and grasped his waist. Reassured by her presence, he grabbed the bowls.

"Okay."

She lifted him to the ground, grunting slightly at his weight

"What were you doing?" she gasped.

"I was making breakfast," he said. "You were still sleeping so I made breakfast. " He broke away from her and stepped over to the bar counter and picked up two boxes of cereal. One was peanut butter puffs, featuring an image of pandas. The second was Sharon's cereal, an organic raisin bran that Jack picked up. He regularly shopped at the whole foods co-op.

"Thank you, sweetheart." She sat back and watched Ricky gather the jug of milk and two spoons. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I got it." He clambered up on the bar stool next to her and carefully poured out cereal and milk. "See?" He picked up his spoon and happily dove into his breakfast.

Sharon ate at a more stately pace. "When did you get up?"

"After Daddy left. I watched TV and then I made breakfast."

"What did you watch?" She caught herself sliding into her investigative mode, trying to pinpoint when Ricky had gotten up.

"The yoga lady was on, and she was boring. But then Mister Rogers was on..." he continued.

Mister Rogers came on at six, she knew. So Jack had left quite early. She filed the scrap of information away, trying to disregard it. A niggling voice kept asking her _what the hell was Jack doing that early_?

She finished her cereal and waited for Ricky to finish his second bowl.

"Go get dressed, okay?" She picked up the dishes and carried them to the sink. She finished as Ricky came back, dressed in khaki shorts and a faded tee. He took the dishes from her and set them in the drainer. She smiled. "Thank you, baby." She walked towards the living room, buttoning her shirt.

"Mama!" Ricky ran after her.

"What?"

"Can I say hi?"

She stopped and waited for Ricky to catch up. A while after she and Jack had told Ricky that the baby was a girl, he had decided to periodically say hello to his sister. It had been an occasional event that gradually morphed into a bi-weekly event.

"Of course." She turned towards Ricky and he set his palms against her now very obvious baby bump, before leaning in.

"Hi. Hi, Sissy. Bye." He was about to pull away when Sharon felt the baby move again. Ricky leapt back and fell on the floor. "Mama!"

"It's okay, Ricky." She knelt down to pick him up. "That's your little sister moving around."

"Ohh." His face still showed shock, but he was grinning brightly.

She helped him up and together they left the house.

Sharon dropped Ricky off at his summer school. He was enrolled in a Catholic pre-school, in preparation for kindergarten at St. Joseph's School the following fall. She continued on to Parker Center, parking in her usual spot, before grabbing her bag and heading inside. She squeezed into the elevator, the others granting her a space at the front.

"Third."

"Fifth, please."

"Eighth."

She tapped all the requested buttons, then took a moment to look over the notification board. Deputy Chief meeting on Monday. Retirement party for Assistant Chief Luke Altergott. Police Commissioner's Ball in two weeks.

The elevator dinged on her floor, and she swept out with a crowd of others.

_"Commander Bancroft?"_

_"Sergeant Raydor, come in." Bancroft gestured to a seat and rose to sit on the front of his desk. "Have you made your decision?"_

_"Sir, I-"_

_Bancroft sighed. "I had been hoping you would say yes, but I can see that's not what you want to tell me. The Chief wants an answer by the end of the week."_

_"Sir, I have an answer-"_

_"He doesn't care if you say yes or no, but I won't take 'no' for an answer. At least not without a damned good reason."_

_Sharon looked at him curiously. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you want me for this job so badly?"_

_Bancroft looked tired. He sat down in the chair next to Sharon and leaned back, eyes closed. "No one in FID is interested in taking over the squad. To be perfectly honest, they know what it entails- damage control, armor against verbal arrows, a cool head- and they don't want it. And I don't see any other high caliber officers that can do it."_

_"Surely there's someone." She didn't want it. The prospect of losing all her friends and their respect wasn't appetizing, despite promotion._

_"Robert Taylor. He's too high-strung. Takes everything personally. He's a weasel. Louie Provenza. Certainly experienced enough, and he doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks of him, but he's always in trouble with Flynn. And Flynn is far too hotheaded. Hotchkiss would be good, but she's planning on retirement. There's a few others, but you get the idea. We thought you'd be good. You're calm, nothing on your file, top marks in the academy. Even if you don't think it now, you're going to want a more administrative job soon. Kids are demanding and it's easier to have fewer hours and not fear for your life every day."_

_She looked down at her hands. "Is there any way I can delay choosing about it?"_

_Bancroft didn't open his eyes. "I can propose an interim head, then you'd give me your answer before you go on leave. Learn all the rules when you're out, then come back and take over. The Chief and the commissioners won't like it, but they can deal."_

Sharon made her way to the desk pair she shared with Meri. He was flipping through the photos in his wallet. His wife, Jill, and their three kids: Eric, Adam, and Joyce. Jill was petite with a wild blonde mane, but their kids looked more like Meri. They were all gangly, with freckles, flaming hair, and Jill's deep brown eyes.

"What's up?" She sat heavily on the edge of her desk.

"Hmm?" He glanced up. "Oh, it's Jilly's birthday in a couple weeks and I haven't figured out what to get her."

Sharon laughed. "That's it? You're way ahead of the game, Mer. Most guys don't remember until a couple days before. Do you have any ideas?"

He shrugged. "I was thinking of sending her a bouquet at work- lilacs and things like that. If I can get a babysitter I'd take her out somewhere."

"What day is it?"

"It'd be a Thursday. Why?"

"I could take your three. Ricky's been dying to have friends over."

"Oh, Shar, no. I can't impose like that." He looked up. "Especially not-"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not made from porcelain. It's only one night, and your kids are well-behaved. Besides, you and Jill need some time off." She smiled. "I can emphasize somewhat."

Meri looked her over, debating himself. "Alright. It's a deal then. But if you ever need anything, just let me know."

"Deal." She watched him slid his wallet back into his pocket. "What are we doing today?"

"We get to sit the rest of our shift next to the elementary school on Lamar. Check that no one's speeding through there."

"Oh, boy," she giggled. "Sounds exciting."

He snorted. "Yep."

"Twenty-five. . . . Twenty-six. . . . Twenty-two. . . . Twenty-five. This is awful. Twenty-four. How much longer?"

"Fifteen-minutes."

The radio crackled suddenly. "All units, we have a fatal 10-50 at Larkspur and Fifteenth has been reported. Robbery-Homicide is rolling out, but we need officers at the scene. Please respond."

Sharon slapped the radar gun down on the dash. "Let's go!"

Meri made a disgruntled choking noise. "But-"

"All we have to do is keep people out of the crime scene." She snatched the radio up. "It'll be fine, Mer. No armed perps running wild, just normal, curious people." She grinned. "This is unit 21, we'll cover the 10-50. ETA five minutes."

"Copy that, 21."

Meri rolled his eyes, but turned the ignition and flipped the flashers on, nonetheless. "I'm going first. You stay back."

Sharon wanted to argue, but she could see where he was coming from. "I suppose." They rocketed through the light traffic, arriving at the foot of a tall hotel. "This is the place?"

Meri shrugged, and picked up the radio. "This is 21; are we supposed to be responding to a. . ." he looked up at the building. "Timothy Hotel?"

"Affirmative."

"Where are we going?"

Sharon pointed out the car. "Just follow the people." There was a crowd forming at the side of the hotel, in the middle of a barely visible quadrangle. She got out of the car and walked around to Meri's side. "Come on, slowpoke." She thumped the roof of the car with one hand and began walking away.

_She does exactly what she pleases exactly when she pleases, and not a moment later,_ Meri thought with a snort. He threw the car door open, and set off after his partner, slamming the door behind him. He caught up to her after a moment. He walked by her side until they had almost reached the edge of the crowd and then cut ahead of her.

"Hey-"

"No. I must go first."

She crossed her arms over her belly and narrowed her eyes. "Fine."

Meri waded into the crowd and began shouldering his way through. It was a mess, people were shouting and shoving each other. They shoved him back until he pulled his badge out and began flashing it at eye-level. He felt someone push past him as he tried to squeeze between a tight-knit group of girls and looked up. It was Sharon, much to his unsurprise. She moved effortlessly through the crowd, people parting for a pregnant woman when they wouldn't for him. "Lady in blue, coming through," he mumbled and fell in behind her.

They reached clear ground a few moments later. The onlookers had left a wide circle around the mangled remains of a man. A tall, young man in a green hotel uniform stood nearby, wringing his hands nervously. He spotted Meri and Sharon and practically ran over to them.

"Are you the police I called?"

"Yes." Meri lifted his badge again. "Lieutenant Meriwether Arthur and Sergeant Sharon Raydor. What happened?"

"I don't know. I was running the concession stand at the pool and all of a sudden I heard someone screaming and I came over here and there was this. . . this. . . this guy and I didn't know what to do so I called 911 and then there were all these people and-"

"Son," Meri said gently. "Just sit down for a minute and take a deep breath."

The kid nearly collapsed onto the grass.

Sharon looked at Meri. "How soon will RHD be here?"

"Not more than a few minutes, I don't think."

She nodded. "I'll talk to the kid, and you keep everyone back?"

"Sure." He stepped away.

Sharon lowered herself to the ground next to the young man- boy, really- and set one hand on his knee. "Hey, look at me, okay?"

He looked up, and she could see he was terrified.

"Everything is going to be fine. Can you tell me your name?"

"Luke Gray. I work here part time, mostly the desk and concessions."

"Okay, Luke." She chose her next question carefully, trying to steer him onto solid ground. "Do you go to school here?"

"I'm going to college in the fall. Not here, but I live here, yeah."

"That's good. College is really fun. What are you majoring in?"

"Petroleum engineering."

She gently questioned him, getting a background and general information. She had just started steering him back to the matter at hand when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the face of a tall, dark-haired detective. The sun was behind him, so she couldn't see his face.

"Hey, Sarge. I can take it from here."

"Robbery-Homicide?"

"Yep, Lieutenant Flynn." He offered his hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Hello again, Lieutenant." She smiled, remembering Jack's friend, the man she had met in IA several weeks before.

He smiled back. "Say hi to Jack for me?"

"Sure."

He stepped back to let her pass. "Congratulations, too."

"Thank you." She waved slightly and rejoined Meri at the periphery of the taped-off section of lawn. "What do we do now?"

"Well. . . we'll probably have to fill out incident reports for RHD, but that won't happen now, so we can just leave."

"Are you going to the Police Ball?" Sharon asked as they reentered Parker Center.

"Yeah, probably. Jill and I usually go. Are you?"

Sharon shrugged. "If Jack's free." She hoped he would be. They had gone in the past and she had enjoyed it. They hadn't gone the previous year, because they had been busy moving from Jack's apartment to the house they were living in presently. They'd lived in the apartment for a few years, then after saving a respectable amount, they had bought the small house on Rowena Avenue. It wasn't anything flashy, but it was tasteful, and had an elegant air to it. One story, with large windows and plenty of natural lighting. When Sharon's parents had visited, her mother had said it looked like something out of a Lands' End catalogue.

"Well, I hope you can come. It'd be nice to know there will be someone there that I can have a sober conversation with. Half the people who go just treat it as an occasion to get blitzed." He snorted. Meri was an observant Methodist, and had chosen to abstain from all alcohol.

"I'll speak with him tonight then, see if I can't talk him around."

"Please do." He sat down at his desk and riffled through the papers in their inbox. "Junk, junk, junk, letter for me, junk, letter for you..." He froze while passing it over to her, then angled the envelope so he could see the return address. "From Commander Bancroft, Force Investigations Division." He let the last word hand between them. "What's up? Everything okay?"

Sharon grabbed for the letter and pulled it away. "It's probably just about the trial for that guy I tackled a while back. I heard he made a deal, so he probably got his trial date moved up." She picked up her letter opener and sliced the top edge of the envelope. She drew out a paper on letterhead. There was a yellow sticky note on it, which she quickly palmed before flipping the letter around to show Meri. "See?" She turned it back to read it. "The trial's been moved to- oh!" She huffed angrily. "This coming Monday!"

Meri took the letter and scanned it for himself. "Have fun with that. It also says you have 'mandatory trial preparation' with 'DDA Andrea Hobbs.' The name sounds vaguely familiar. I think she's the new woman they hired."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "I'm probably her first appointment. They want to try her out on a beat cop before they sic her on Robbery-Homicide detectives." She took the letter back and read it for herself. "They want me to meet her today. Don't waste time, do they?" she grumbled.

"Time is money," Meri said cheerily as she packed her things up. "Have fun. Play nice."

She grinned and punched his shoulder as she passed him. "Since when have I not?" She walked out to the hall and decided to take the stairs to the first floor to walk down the street to the DA's office. As soon as the stairwell door clanged shut behind her, she dropped the smile. She pulled the now slightly crumpled note out of her pocket.

_Sergeant Raydor- Enclosed with your trial notifications is a job description for Captain of FID. I realized I never gave you one. -Comdr. A. Bancroft_

Sharon pulled out a second packet of paper and flipped through it as she walked out of the station. It was several pages long, but Bancroft had circled some sections with pink highlighter. Hours, vacation time, pay, duties, dress code. She paused at pay, and her jaw dropped. It was nearly twice what she was currently making.

_That's because no one wants the job._

She stuffed the papers back into her purse and yanked the door to the DA's office open. It was an older building, with black and white tiled floors and dark wood mixed with marbled glass. There was a small directory posted on the wall. Most of the names were a permanent part of the sign; a strip of paper at the bottom was the lone exception.

_Andrea Hobbs, DDA- 325_

There were no numbered offices nearby, and it took Sharon several minutes to find the right hall. It wasn't part of the main building, instead she had to find the annex and search the warren of halls for Hobbs' office. She eventually found it sandwiched between the fire exit and the men's bathroom.

"DDA Hobbs?" She knocked on the door.

A shadow moved behind the frosted glass, there was a scuffling noise, and then the door opened. "Hello!" The woman was tall, with light blonde hair pulled back in a short ponytail. She was dressed in slacks and a sleeveless blouse, and had clearly been moving into her office. "I'm sorry, I haven't unpacked my appointment book yet, so who are you?" She stepped back to allow Sharon into the small room.

"Sharon Raydor, LAPD. I'm here about the Rogers' case?"

"Oh, alright. Just take a seat. . ." the woman waved her arm across the office. "Let me just get the file," she added before disappearing behind another stack of boxes.

Sharon looked around. The office was little more than a glorified closet with a large window. A wooden desk dominated the room. There was a matching bookcase along one wall, and three mismatched chairs crammed into the remaining space. Every surface was piled with cardboard boxes and loose papers.

She picked the chair nearest her and hefted the top box onto the other chair. It wasn't heavy, nor were the other two boxes, so she stacked them all on the other chair, before taking a seat.

Andrea Hobbs reappeared a moment later, flipping through the file. She pulled her chair around from behind the desk and sat next to Sharon. "I'm truly sorry about the mess. I just moved in yesterday and. . . Well, at least I don't have to share an office." She grinned, and Sharon smiled back. "Oh! I never introduced myself. I suppose you know, but I'm Andrea Hobbs, and I was just hired by the DA's office. Not to make you nervous, but this is my first case." She smiled again and held out her hand.

Sharon shook it. "Sharon Raydor."

"Sharon. Okay. Just call me Andrea. I've read the file, but I'd like to hear you tell your version of events, if you don't mind."

"Of course." Sharon sat back, trying to recall what had happened. "My partner, Meri Arthur, and I were about to go off-duty, I think, and then the call came over the radio that there was a vehicular pursuit and that the suspect might be armed. I told Meri we should go, because we were only a block or two away. When we got there, Meri told me to wait in the car, and I did, but then the guy started coming my way, and-" Sharon stopped and bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "I opened the car door and he ran into it, and then I tackled him. And that was about it."

Andrea raised one eyebrow elegantly and shot Sharon an amused look. "They included photos from the incident in the file. It looks like you and our perp duked it out."

"I think I broke his nose," Sharon said looking down. It hadn't been a big deal. No one seemed to understand that. "Will that cause a problem?"

Andrea laughed. "No! The defense might bring it up, but I have your photos, too. I think that'll take care of any potential problems." She flipped the file around and pushed it towards Sharon. "You had one hell of a shiner."

Sharon took the file and looked at it grimacing. There was a pair of glossy photos of her face included in the typed papers. The first one was a profile, and the dirt and blood on her shoulder and cheek and shown up brightly. The second one was taken from the front and looked even worse, capturing her black eye. She passed the file back.

"It really wasn't that bad. He just gave me the black eye. The nosebleed was a coincidence."

"So modest. Don't tell the jury- they like drama. I think some of them feel like they're in some sort of crime show when they get jury duty for stuff like this."

Sharon grinned. "What is the case about anyways?"

Andrea looked down at the file. "We had a warrant out for our friend Sean Rogers after an aggravated assault and robbery at a convenience store, but he did a runner when patrol went to pick him up. We can get him for resisting arrest and assault of a police officer as well. It's pretty open and shut, but he's decided to plead not guilty for some half-assed reason, so we have to go to court." She flipped through the papers again, and they fell into a companionable silence. "Do you want to try some practice questions?"

"Sure."

Andrea pulled a yellow legal pad out of one of her precarious stacks, then picked a stray pen up from the floor. "There are four other witnesses besides you. The clerk from the store, a customer, and the two officers who went to pick Sean Rogers up from his apartment. I'm just going to start with some background information, then move on to your work and what you were doing that day, and then your interactions with Mr. Rogers."

Sharon noticed as Andrea slipped into more formal, lawyerly speech.

"Name and occupation."

"Sharon Raydor, Sergeant, Los Angeles Police Department. I've been there since '83."

Andrea looked up. "I'll probably ask you to elaborate a little, just so the jury gets a feel for you. Tell me a little about yourself."

"Hmm. . . I'm married, I have a little boy, my husband and I are expecting a girl in the fall. . ."

Andrea waved at Sharon to continue.

"I went to the University of Wyoming for my pre-law degree and Berkeley for my law degree. Long story short, I decided that policing was more exciting than being a lawyer, so I joined the force after I got out of school. Is that enough?"

"Yes, that's perfect." Andrea looked at her notes. "Juries tend to look for education, family, and trustworthiness. The more connections you have to them, the more they like you, generally. You typically work on the streets as part of the patrol, yes? What do you do?"

"My partner and I drive around and make police presence known. I, um. . . I do speed traps, pull people over, answer 911 calls, whatever jobs need to be done."

"How did you get involved with Sean Rogers?"

"Meri- Meriwether Arthur, my partner- and I were going back to Parker Center, and the call came over the radio that there was a car chase happening a block away, or so. We joined the pursuit, and the suspect was cornered. Meri got out to help the other officers, and I stayed back in the car."

"Why was that?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Meri doesn't think I should get involved with perps at close quarters because I'm pregnant."

Andrea smiled slightly. "And what happened next?"

"I got involved."

**A/N- I'm sorry it took me so long to do this. Uni is an. . . . interesting experience, to say the least. Latin and Chemistry midterms are rather time-consuming. . . . Thank you so very, very much for sticking with me (; I hope you enjoyed this last one; let me know! Also, what did you think of Andrea? I feel like I don't know her very well. . . . Sī valet, valēo!**


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